


Midnight

by fabula_prima



Series: Kairos [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Flash Fic, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soft Cullen Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 22:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabula_prima/pseuds/fabula_prima
Summary: Drunken affections...





	Midnight

Neither of you can hold your liquor, though his extra bulk gives him a solid two drink advantage over you. Somewhere in the midst of work and responsibility and time passing steadily by, both of you became lightweights. It makes you feel young again, a little bit inexperienced and still soft in the wake of a grisly world.

In a fleeting, clear-headed moment, you realize you’ve not seen him in his cups at all before. You ask him, as the two of you stumble toward his loft in the rain, what prompted him to indulge this evening. _Comfortable_ , he announces, which you translate to a feeling of safety. The same reason you took a refill even after things went fuzzy around the edges. Because he was right next to you, bulk and strong bones and a guardian disposition. A glare that would slice any man with handsy intentions from nose to navel.

You can’t tell if he’s a sad drunk or an angry drunk or a giggly drunk. He’s weighed down by so many layers and layers of professionalism, stoicism, and self-discipline that you’re just glad to see the alcohol loosen him up enough for full-bodied laughter and full-faced blushing. He gets like this when passions are high, as if to finally admit he’s made of flesh–-but his kisses and clutches are so insistent that you’ve no time, no mind to study his vulnerability or notice that the hollows of his cheeks turn splotchy when his blood is up.

He unlocks the door and shoulders it open and you’re one step away from walking through when he swoops you up in his arms. _What are you doing_ , you ask. _Put me down_. And he laughs and curls you forward in his arms and it's like alchemy, you swear, the way he turns your insides into an airy fog. _Never put me down_. He nuzzles his cheek against yours until your nose is pressed firmly at his ear and the combined heat between you turns to humidity, curls the hair at his temple. He smells of damp wool and clean sweat and the drowsy fumes of dark ale.

He tells you he’s carrying you over the threshold. absolutely _must_ carry you over the threshold because he means to marry you some day _but the world is so broken_ …and he loses his train of thought and presses you tighter to him and he’s just a bit drunk is all, _you’re_ just a bit drunk. But as he peels your clothes and woes away in the early hours of the morning and blankets you with himself, you cling to him like a bride, swear in silence to take no other man, _yours_ and _mine_ and fine, _fine_ feathered lines on lips you spend the night memorizing.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt from Kagetsukai: "What are you doing?! Put me down!" 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. Thanks eternally for reading!


End file.
